Chapter Text
It was a great day, but isn't that how it always starts?
Greg and Mycroft had the day off, and after the two had indulged in a much needed lie-in, Greg had made his way to the kitchen and was cooking up the French Toast that had given him a name through all the department at NSY. Mycroft was in the shower, and although it was already past noon neither of them had received a text or phone call, so no murders or national emergencies so far.
Right as this thought had passed through Greg's mind, his phone began to ring.
“Damn it.”
After glancing at the caller id and not recognizing the number, he took the pan off the stove before answering.
“Lestrade here.”
His heart dropped when he heard an all too familiar voice answer back.
“Hi Greg.”
Mycroft wasn't the type to indulge, certainly he had expensive taste but the bespoke suits, expensive wines and vintage autos were all things he was accustomed too, thanks to both his privileged upbringing and minor government position.
Needless to say, when the rare occasion occurred that both he and Gregory had the day off – and no, he had nothing to do with it this time, thank you very much- he indulged. A full nights sleep; after hours of lovemaking, a few extra lazy hours in bed, before a hot shower and breakfast out on the terrace. Indeed, this was shaping out to be a perfect day.
So it was with a smile and perhaps a bit of a hum that Mycroft made his way towards the kitchen, the smell of cinnamon, citrus and bacon had filled his flat and made it feel, homey and sickingly domestic. Surprisingly, Mycroft didn't mind in the slightest. Even if no one else could believe it, Gregory was able to turn 'The Iceman's' flat into a home.
He began to fix himself a cup of tea, sighing over the fact that his husband insisted on drinking coffee in the morning, at least he had successfully replaced that vile brew with a more acceptable brand.
He felt more than hear Gregory's return to the kitchen, resisting the impulse to deduce, he took a sip of his tea before speaking.
“What's wrong?”
“Hi Greg.”
Thanks to the harshness of his job, Greg wasn't rendered speechless very often, actually, he could count on one hand how many times he's been at a loss for words in the past year, and half of them had something to do with Mycroft. Regardless, hearing his ex-wife's voice on the phone, almost two years after the divorce, left him at a complete loss.
“Greg, are you still there?”
“Oh, uh, yeah. I'm here. How- How are you Sid?”
“Not too good, I'm afraid. Greg, I'm just going to come straight to the point. I know I have no right to ask this of you, but, I just- I wanted to see you. I want to apologize, for everything, in person. I know you're with that government guy-”
“Mycroft.”
“Yeah, him, but I need to do this.”
Greg knew that sigh, it would happen whenever Sidney had something more to say. Turning off the stove completely he made his way into the living room. “Sidney, what's wrong?”
It was like he could hear the tears when she answered. “Greg, I'm dying. I have cancer.”
As hard as he tried, Mycroft couldn't ignore his husband's red eyes or tear stained cheeks.
“Gregory? What ever is the matter?”
Placing his cell phone atop the counter, Greg slumped onto their barstool.
“It was Sidney. She has cancer.”
“Oh my.”
As his eyes shifted up from the tabletop to his spouse, Greg frowned.
“Myc, don't be like that.”
“Like what, my dear?”
Gesturing towards the coffee pot, Greg sighed.
“That tone, that thing you do.”
the pair was silent as Mycroft poured a cup, as he placed the mug down Greg grasped the younger mans wrist and gently pulled him to stand between his legs. Looping his arms around Mycroft's waist, Greg pressed his face against the impeccably tailored waistcoat, the material rough against his face, yet soft at the same time; just like Mycroft.
The couple stood in silence before Greg let out a deep sigh.
“She wants to know if I can visit. She says there are some things she needs to tell me, in person, and some things she needs to apologize for.”
Greg let out a whine of comfort as Mycroft's fingers began threading through his hair and massaging his scalp.
“And how do you feel about that?”
Pulling away, Greg looked up at his young husband.
“The question is, how do you feel about it? You'd be coming with me.”
“Gregory, I hardly think-”
“Sidney specifically asked for you to come.”
Anyone else would have missed the look of both shock and surprise on Mycroft's face, but Greg didn't.
“Did she now?”
Greg nodded slowly, before bringing his arms to the front of Mycroft's waistcoat and began toying with the buttons. A habit the younger man found to be absolutely charming.
“She said she'd understand if you didn't come, but you will, won't you?”
Hopeful, warm brown puppy eyes gazed up at him.
“I wouldn't go without you.”
Mycroft mentally sighed, no, he didn't want to go visit his husband's ex-wife so she could ease her conscious. She deserved the guilt, she had hurt Gregory, his Gregory, and forgiveness from him would not come easy, if it came to her at all. However, he did not want to come across a spiteful, or jealous man, he knew Gregory was nothing but faithful; it was that woman he had concerns about. She could easily take advantage of his darling's kindness and forgiveness, but he would not allow it.
He looked down at his husband, whose beautiful face was now downcast as his hands gripped the tops of his worn out flannel pyjama pants and mentally sighed.
Was there nothing he wouldn't do for this man? He was clearly mad, taken complete leave of his senses the moment he said 'I do.' There was no hope for him, but he wouldn't have it any other way.
Taking his partner's hand, Mycroft brushed his lips against the rough knuckles.
“When do we leave?”